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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22707166">Mr. St. North</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister'>GretchenSinister</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rise of the Guardians (2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Human, Boss/Employee Relationship, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 13:09:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>505</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22707166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretchenSinister/pseuds/GretchenSinister</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Original prompt: "north x pitch human au where north is pitch's boss"</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Nicholas St. North/Pitch Black</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Pitchmas Short Fics</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Mr. St. North</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted on Tumblr on 12/10/2014.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="answer post-content">
  <p></p>
  <div>
    <p>The job title, Executive Assistant, didn’t seem to mean much, but in Pitch’s opinion, it told everyone who didn’t know his name all they needed to know. He assisted his executive, and that meant that no one got to Nicholas St. North without going through him first. Considering Mr. St. North as a whole, Pitch knew he had been wise to hire him, and occasionally he wondered how he had gotten along without him.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>Mr. St. North was warm, affable, larger-than-life and always willing to use the vast resources at his disposal to help anyone who asked. He would fight for what he thought was right—quite belligerently, in fact—and was entirely convinced that the work he was doing was some of the most important in the world.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>He was an excellent face for a multinational toy company to present to the world—more excellent every year, in fact, as his beard grew whiter—but he was all too easily taken advantage of, Pitch thought. It was far too easy for him to become involved in causes that could draw him in over his head.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>And so everyone who wanted to talk to Mr. St. North had to meet with Pitch, first. Pitch of the impeccable suits and razorlike figure and mouth. Sallow, dark-haired Pitch. Pitch frowned. True, Mr. St. North had been wise to hire him to vet the people that came before him, suspicious and intimidating as he was. But on occasion—mornings like this, for example, when no supplicants demanded Mr. St. North’s and thus, his, attention—he found himself wishing that Mr. St. North had hired him because he found something likeable about him.</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>But, no. Pitch was intensely <em>un</em>likeable. It was what made him good at his job, and he had to accept that. He smiled thinly. And daydream about Mr. St. North’s broad shoulders while he was at it? Surely he could manage to convince himself that it was acceptable that he was only indispensable to Mr. St. North on a professional level. Surely. He would be able to do so as soon as Mr. St. North never spoke to him, met with him, or clapped him too-enthusiastically on the back ever again. </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>His thin smile became a thin, straight line. So, never, then. Unless he was fired for an ethics breach if somehow this got out…</p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p> </p>
  </div>
  <div>
    <p>The phone rang and he grabbed it in relief. “Pitch speaking. Mr. St. North! No, sir, I’m not busy right now, and your schedule is clear for the next hour, too.”</p>
  </div>
  <div><p>Pitch hung up the phone and efficiently straightened his suit and tie. Either he was about to be fired or have his wildest dreams fulfilled, and he wanted to look professional in either case.</p><hr/>
</div>
  <div>
    <p>At the end of the hour, though, Pitch still had both his job and unfulfilled fantasies. What he had instead, was an invitation to call Mr. St. North, Nicholas, and a personal invitation to the company Christmas party—which only made his wildest dreams wilder.</p>
  </div>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Comments from Tumblr:</p><p>ksclaw said: fff slightly regretting now I didn’t get a pairing prompt in. You write these so well &lt;3</p><p>cenobitesquid said: Awww yissss, I like this *_*</p><p>bowlingforgerbils said: Aww, that was cute!</p><p>zinfandelli said: oh what a precious! you go get ‘im tiger!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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